


Fireworks

by SLWalker



Series: Game of Thrones: Alderaan [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Flirting, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 19:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: Founding Day on Alderaan is a somewhat intense experience, but the real fireworks start at the end of it.





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the Ascendancy Contention and Bail's marriage to Bre, but before Bre and Maul have switched from being good friends to lovers.

Founding Day galas were, by far, the most extravagant of the year, especially since the day fell smack in the middle of the Republic’s Festival of Life. The planet-wide holiday went all the way from the monarchy on down; from the palace to the classroom and further. On colonies and on other worlds, Alderaanians celebrated it; in Aldera, though, the entire city became one very large party.

Queen Mazi had opened the palace to the public like her predecessors rarely did; the lower levels were open during all business hours, and the royal gardens were shared by all. But for Founding Day, she threw open all but their most private sanctuaries; every ball room and balcony, every common area was filled with people, and while there were _some_ guests from other worlds, almost everyone was Alderaanian.

Maul often found it overwhelming, even when they lived on the Estate still. No matter how far he had come out of the shadow of– of _before_ , some part of him remained hyper-aware of threat potential; no matter how good he had gotten at smaller scale celebrations, dressing to drive Bail mad and dancing with Breha, crowds of this magnitude had his gaze darting around, looking for weapons or threatening body-language.

As such, he did the only sensible thing he could and removed himself. The Royal Guard was certainly good enough to do their jobs without a jumpy zabrak around.

Their private suites weren’t strictly quiet; the walls were soundproofed, but he could still _feel_ the number of people close, like static on his skin, like whispers around the edges of his mind, crowding his hearts. Maul’s compromise was standing on their balcony where the physical noise at least counterpointed the mental noise, arms leaned on the rail, waiting for the fireworks display and the subsequent end of the night. Even if he ended up sleeping alone, he was looking forward to having Bail and Bre back in for the night, safe in his sphere.

The interference, for lack of a better word, was such that he didn’t even hear Bail walk up to him; it was only a split-second before Bail’s hand trailed down his back that Maul registered him, and he still ended up jumping.

Bail’s smile turned a little rueful, though not overly much; he smelled like his cologne and some champagne, and under that, like himself. Like home, like safety, like sunlight. Maul was breathing it in even as Bail asked, “Too much?”

“A little. It isn’t– bad, _per se_ , just overwhelming.” Maul leaned over a little, looking down at the other balconies, all extended to allow the revelry to take place indoors and out. “It’s happy, it’s just very _loud_.”

Bail leaned with him; they were high enough up that no one was likely to notice how close they were, certainly closer than merely _familial_. The weight of Bail against his back was soothing like few things in the galaxy could be. “I figured.”

“Are you retiring, or checking up on me?” Maul asked, after a moment, shifting his shoulders a little just to feel the light pressure of Bail’s chest against them.

“Mm. I was thinking of getting you drunk and having wild sex with you, climaxing with the fireworks display.”

Bail was certainly not without mischief, even if he tended to display his differently. Maul outright laughed at that, reaching up and back and winding his fingers into Bail’s hair, using that grip to drag the man’s head down just so Maul could bite at his jawline. “Hoping it’ll drown out the sounds you’re making?” he asked, pleased with how the man shivered as his lips brushed the edge of Bail’s goatee.

“Or the ones you are,” Bail quipped back, pinning Maul a bit more firmly to the balcony rail, though not painfully so.

“You’re good, but I don’t know if you’re good enough to manage that in five minutes.”

It was a joke, and it made Bail laugh back; he let up with his weight a little bit, but only so he could wind around Maul, sliding hands into his dinner jacket and all but engulfing him. While occasionally their relative size difference could get frustrating for Maul, who usually made up for it with agility (or flexibility), at times like this he rather reveled in it. “See, now, that sounds like a challenge to me, love,” Bail said, giving him a squeeze.

Maul let go of Bail’s hair, but kept a hand on the back of his neck. “I couldn’t get drunk in four and a half minutes even if I wanted to.”

“We can skip the drunk part and go right to the wild sex?”

“And I don’t think that it can get very wild in four-and-a-quarter minutes, either.”

Bail huffed out an entirely fake, put-upon sigh and drew back, much to Maul’s immediate chagrin. “So beautiful, but such a skeptic.”

Maul rolled his eyes, just as exaggerated, turning back to the balcony’s rail and crossing his arms, taking in the sight of his lover and trying to maintain enough pretend-skepticism to _not_ look like he was drinking in the sight. No easy feat; with his black hair a little ruffled and wearing a dark blue silk shirt, jacket discarded, Bail was breathtaking. The reflected lighting from the gala below combined with the starlight from above was laying on him like a favor, like grace, and no matter how much time passed and how complicated things got, how badly Maul _wanted him_ never faded.

He must have failed some at pretending to be nonchalant, because Bail’s expression softened, a little smile curving his lips. “You know, you’re the first person who ever looked at me like that? Like I’m–” He cut himself off, and even in the low lighting, his face darkened in a blush.

“–wonderful,” Maul finished, a grin sneaking up on him. “Devastatingly handsome. Honorable and clever and kind and beautiful.”

Bail huffed a laugh, scrubbing his hand back through his hair, sending it even more into disarray before following through to rub at his neck. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Their loss, then.”

Bail ducked his gaze with a grin, shaking his head, then blew out a breath and stepped over, catching Maul by the front of his jacket and dragging him in. “Did you know there’s a Founding Day tradition of kissing under fireworks?”

Maul narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking up at Bail, even though he was quite happy to be reeled in. “Is there, now,” he said, rather than asked. “And how come I haven’t heard of it?”

Bail’s grin went tongue-in-cheek. “Because I just made it up. I can do that, I’m a prince, remember.”

“Well, far be it from me to argue with a _prince_ ,” Maul answered, rising up on his toes to steal a kiss, then finishing, “but I hardly need fireworks to kiss you.”

“Are you suggesting we go make our own?” Bail asked back, hands roaming with easy intimacy, grinning more broadly.

Maul worked his jaw, having to put some effort into remaining deadpan. “I’m suggesting that I get mildly drunk and we have wild sex, yes.”

Somehow, despite this, he still practically squeaked when Bail slung him over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, liberally groping him once he was up there, and by the time they were crossing the threshold back indoors, Maul was laughing helplessly and the fireworks were just starting behind them.


End file.
